AU: The Hand of Tyranny
Title: AU: The Hand of Tyranny Characters: Huffer, Imager Elita One AU-Stormfront AU-Benjer AU-Incognito Dreadwind Blast Off, Tomorrow, Tracker Year: The End of the War Location: New Rust Desert, Cybertron Run by: Imager The Blind Prophet that is Elita One raises her walking stick into the air, "It has been some time, let us remind ourselves of the past...." The world had ended. The factions had finally stopped fighting. There was the peace of the dead. And then a radio transmission changed everything. For the first time...in a long time, a new life had been manufactured. They call her Tomorrow. And as part of her spark and processor, she has the necessary elements to jumpstart a whole new generation of Cybertronians...if she was slain. Perhaps a dozen or so could be spliced off of her spark during her lifetime, but that would be ages and ages in the future. And who was it that discovered the protoform? Of all people, of all fickle fate, it was Dreadwind, the morose one, who named her, and became her Guardian. Elita One smirks, a crooked smile. But to survive, the Protoform will require energon. Her systems are far too weak to go without, not like the rest of us. Therefore I had tasked us to come here...to the Junk Reavers base, where an energon generator shall be found. Stormfront has attempted diplomacy with the Junks, though Benjer has noticed exactly what prize the Guardian and his troops carry. Why, what would a Junkion do with such opportunity? Well, that must be tabled, because the Junk Sand Crawler has come under fire, by tanks.... By Megatron. Yes, the warlord still lives. Confused, and perhaps hallucinating, the Slagmaker dreams of Apotheosis--the act of ascending to godhood. As to how, only Blast Off knows...and perhaps another. Drive on, Warriors. Save the Protoform. Secure the Energon. And move forward. Ensure she gets fully formatted, and find the reclusive Optimus Prime, for surely he will be the key to survival. The small, ragtag group of guardians lay surrounded by Junk reavers, having appeared from the dunes themselves. Even as Stormfront attempts to talk down Benjer, who apparently wants no part of Earth's niceties any longer, the crackening thunder of a volley of ballistic weapons go off. The Junk Sand Crawler groans as cannon shells smash into its side. Parts of armor plating fall, and bury into the rust sands as another volley rips into the crawler. Optics zoom in on the figure in the distance, a large mech, standing behind the line of tanks, with the fluttering fabric of a worn cape over one shoulder. He is the Slagmaker, even here at the end, he lives, and his quest for domination is unquenched. By his side, stands a small orange and purple mech, seemingly disinterested in the cacophany that drives off the wildlife around them. And among the small group, stands the Blind Prophet, Elita One, half of her body destroyed, and making do with the most bare of limb structures...and Tomorrow, the protoform Femme, wordlessly standing behind Dreadwind, her digital eyes wide as she watches the Junkion Raiders. "Fire Again" Another volley of shells streak out towards the Sand Crawler. Smoke and powder fill the air as Megatron stares at the Junk base. "Why....Why is it. They still live?" The small Bot near him, speaks up, in something of a gruff, nasally tone, "The Junks lived on a similar planet for eons. Its more their world now than ours." Megatron turns, and drops the mech near him with an outraged backhand. "No! This world, This...This world is MY world! And I'll not have it!" He points towards the Crawler, "Fire! Fire! Bring it down! Bring down everything! Rubble...Rubble and ashes before me!" Elita One stands rather solemnly, she's actually a bit tense, which is unusual for her post-apocalpytic persona. "Benjer...." Her words are cool, "There are other things going on now." Both hands grasp at the walking stick she uses as a leg, "And the Energon Generator will be destroyed if things keep up as it stands...." Dreadwind's shoulders sink even further as the Sand Crawler comes under bombardment. "I wish I could say I was surprised..." He lifts his makeshift shield (shift-made from one of his own wings) back up to a protect himself from any stray debris. At best he can hope to note see the shot that finally destroys him. "And, of course, the thing we need is in the Sand Crawler." With a heavy sigh, he looks toward Benjer, "I don't suppose one of your friends could show me where it is?" Tomorrow looks up to Dreadwind from behind his hip joint, wordlessly as usual. She looks cautiously towards whom Dreadwind talks, then slinks back behind him. Almost as one, Benjer and his Junk Pack tense and look up, many raising their weapons and shields instinctively. As the attack commences, Ben gives Stormfront a quick questioning, accusatory look, before shaking his head. No. Threats aside, he still trusts his former mentee too much to blame him for this unprovoked attack. This is something else. As Tracker moves to protect the group, so does Benjer extend his amour axe, stepping between the others and the explosions. For now, his home is under attack, and his concerns with these others can wait. "Wa-n'Da!" Ben calls out. "Longsight! Sever this blight!" Benjer gestures with his axe, and his tribe transform and tear down the hill, back towards the crawler. Ben turns to Dreadwind and says, "Come along with me, and I'll show you where it be." Ben scans the horizon, looking for the source of the attack. But when he spots the villain behind the assault, even the insane Benjer gives pause. "I thought that they had lost their khan," Ben says quietly. "And yet, before me - Megatron." AU-Stormfront keeps his expression level when Benjer looks at him. He doesn't speak until Benin is through. It has not been easy getting this level of trust and he's not about to blow it. WHen Ben identifies the attack source, Stormfront turns to look at Elita. A frown on his face. "If we are to all survive this, our actions must be swift my friends whatever our courses." Elsewhere... The cavernous chamber had remained utterly silent for so very, very long. Eons, in fact. Not that he had expected as much, mind -- he'd pulled a Dai Atlas, some might say, leading a number of Neutrals away, as well as a few Autobots and Decepticons who'd grown tired and weary of the neverending war. He'd watched helplessly then, as they formed their own society, in a failed attempt to be something more thah Cybertron had been... and seen them fight and die to the last mech and femme. After a lengthy period of remaining in that dead mausoleum of a "new world", he'd returned to Cybertron, careful to stay out of the affairs of the factions. They didn't listen, they just kept fighting... until finally, even they were disgusted by what they'd become. "Arends, the lot of them." The deep voice was that of Incognito, who had come out of nowhere eons ago to take up the mantle of Cybertronian sage -- even going so far as to move into Alpha Trion's old base of operations and take up residence there. And even now, after all those eons, he still can't help but bring up the occasional Terran reference. Silent and yet watchful for some semblance of a sign that the Cybertronians might yet crawl out of their constant war-minded attitude, he had watched ceaselessly for a sign that something might just change. And it did. He stood over a viewscreen embedded into a table, watching the drama unfold at what they now called the New Rust Desert. "In the face of new life, and still all they know how to do is fight," he mutters to himself. "Just once, it would be nice for them to actually listen for a change... but they're too set in their ways." Even so, he keeps a close watch on the new protoform, courtesy of a satellite far above ground in orbit -- one of the few that still function, at any rate. If things get too dicey... he may have to finally emerge from the shadows and intervene. Another armor plate buckles against the onslaught of cannon fire. Megatron stares wistfully forward, his hand clenched. "Fall...." He whispers, "FALL! FALL! And bring their bodies to me...." He starts his classic maniac chuckle, then pauses. Slowly he turns his head to Huffer, and everything just breaks in him for a moment. In a tone unexpectedly weary, he says "I'm....tired. Huffer." Huffer lets out a sigh, "We all are. But what does it matter? Your 'quest' awaits." The Warlord's fist clenches, "Yessss! My right. My Rule!" Huffer points forward, "And here come the Junks. Tanks, Open F.." Megatron interrupts him, "Fire, Fire upon them! Bring me their bodies!" >> Tank Cons misses Junkion Reavers with Laser . << "Indeed." There's a smirk to Elita's tone still. "I think, however...that I will sit this one out for now. I daresay I could use a short rest before moving on." She plants her stick in the sand dune and starts to pull herself up it slowly, "Megatron is not the concern here though. He will have his comeuppance later." She tilts her blind eye back to the group, "At least I hope so. Hmmm?" She climbs higher into the dune, "That rocky area over there looks sittable...Hmmm, yes..." Dreadwind nods to Benjer and, with another shoulder-heaving sigh, begins to follow as best he can. Between trying to maintain a protective stance in front of Tomorrow, and his deteriorated... well, everything, he's not exactly spry. He glances over his shoulder at the lethargic Elita and mutters to himself, "Naturally..." He looks to Tomorrow, "Just... stay behind me. At least we'll explode together and I can say that I tried." Tomorrow's optics grow wider at Dreadwind's words, but she shuffles along behind him, her hands together in anxiety. Benjer raises his ax and points, and the Junkions tear down the dune, weapons raised. They leap and wheelie, dodging blasts, and fall in amongst the tanks with blades and lasers. Quaria transforms into chopper mode and flies overhead, targeting the con tanks with missiles. Meanwhile Benjer himself has his own target. His Number-One transforms into bike mode, and Ben jumps on, racing down towards the Slagmaker himself: Megatron. Benjer screams wordlessly as he charges directly towards the former Decepticon Leader, slashing at him with his ax. >> Junkion Reavers strikes Tank Cons with Axe. << The chrome chopper emits, "Honeeeeeeey FLASH!" and unfolds into the rotund form of Benin-Jeri. >> AU-Benjer misses AU-Megatron with Axe. << Tracker bears his teeth and stays near Tomorrow. Stormfront fires on the incoming army, hoping to slow them down. Elsewhere... Calling up a top-down holo-display view of the battle unfolding, Incognito's optics flicker between each in turn. Megatron did have the element of surprise working for him, but that's gone now. And this early, it's still anyone's battle. But time and again, his optics stray to Tomorrow, hiding as she is behind Dreadwind. My, how times have changed, when Decepticons wind up numbered amongst the "good guys" while Autobots wind up joining the other side -- like Huffer apparently has. Then he reroutes the sensor arrays to focus on the crawler itself, and picks up the tell-tale signs. Energon reactor. That is the last thing Megatron needs. And if rumors of his growing insanity are true... "Damn." Incognito turns from the table, looking back towards the far end of the chamber. Once, LONG ago, it had glowed with such brilliance that Transformers couldn't look at it without shielding their optics. Now... not so much. Shaking his head slowly, he turns back around towards the table, continuing to observe for the time being. But the moment, he knows, is fast approaching, and it may prove the most telling moment of his long and storied existence. AU-Megatron stares at the Junkions, and at Benjer, even as his tanks are met in the field. Huffer dives to the side as Benjer leaps forward with his axe, and throws himself down to the ground. Megatron raises his tarp-covered arm, and catches the axe. He humphs softly, "Kill them. All of them." The Tank Cons transform into basic figures, drones even, each one drawing a ballistic rifle, then start to open fire on the Junk raiders. Megatron hefts Benjer and his axe up single handed, as he raises his own rifle one-handed, spraying ballistic shells towards the incoming forces as well. The Slagmaker tries to take Benjer to the ground, using his grip on the axe to smash the Junk leader into the rust. "Nonsense." He mutters, "You'll be picked apart and eaten. Scavengers to a corpse." >> AU-Megatron strikes AU-Benjer with Throw. << >> Tank Cons strikes Junkion Reavers with Cannon . << Elita One sits upon the high rocks, overlooking the scene. She grunts softly as she gets her less functional leg to move into place. "There. This will do I suppose." She angles her legs to cross, her blind optic looking towards the skirmish. Dreadwind's optics flicker as even his Junkion guide abandons him. However, it doesn't deter him from the task at hand. He understands the implacable progress of inevitable doom, and that's how he moves forward - unceasing and determined. The Sand Crawler looms over him, even as it shudders under the continued assault. "So how do we-..." As he's wondering aloud the best way to enter the vehicle, a cannon shell knocks a loose panel falls to the sand, exposing an interior corridor. His optics flicker again and, after a moment, he shrugs and heads into the Junkions' home. It isn't actually too far away from Dreadwind, as some of the Junks in the interior are using the Crawler for shelter against the cannon assault. Several of them fire back with crossbows or other energon-light weaponry. Dreadwind sees the generator, its this big bulky piece with a solar array mounted on top. Strangely, however, it has a an addition to it. A mode-lock restraint has been placed upon the generator! Benjer eks as he's yanked right off Number-One and thrown to the ground. Switching his ax to his left hand, he draws his blaster with the other. "I hate to contradict your greeting," he laments to Megatron, while firing from the ground. "But you're the one we'll be kill and eating." Meanwhile Benjer's troops are being torn apart. Quaria is shot out of the sky, crashing into the dunes out of sight. HAZMAT and Queen Melody are blown apart, their components still twitching like detached zombie limbs. However, the rest continue to press on, falling back to sparse cover positions to fire on the advancing Decepticon drones. >> AU-Benjer strikes AU-Megatron with Blaster . << >> Junkion Reavers misses Tank Cons with Laser . << Tomorrow looks over to Tracker, as she follows Dreadwind to the Junkion Sand Raider, seemingly nonplussed by the creature's temperment. Kids like dogs, what can I say? This ISN'T what he wanted. He's spent years...thousands of them trying to protect those around him. Even those who either didn't want his help or perhaps thought they were beneath notice. Even his own 'sibling' shows up and instead of making use of what little good he's managed, had apparently been willing to take from the junkions by force. He had spent most of his life learning to survive by others rules and later making his own rules so that he could help others survive. And just when he gets things almost back in order the supposed master of chaos appears. So Megatron wants to play his game of warfare. Well Let's see how much he likes the board being smacked into the air by someone who has let his own version of chaos carve a path through Cyberton's history. &T&R Stormfront transforms and begins to use his hovervehicle mode to stir the dust. He activates his forcefield to augment the charge in the air, speeding of the vortices he soon starts send large gusts of sand filled air and large dust devils at Megatron's army, aiming to make their forward progress treacherous while thicking the air with the charged dust and limit visibility. The junkions should be used to these conditions at least. AU-Megatron grabs at Benjer's other hand as he produces his pistol. "No." He utters the single word coldly, "You won't." He puts his foot down on Benjer as he pulls with both hands, having the Junkion in a position of weakness, as he attempts to just outright pull Benjer's arm straight off. >> AU-Megatron strikes AU-Benjer with Crush. << AU-Megatron pulls as wires snap, and metal creaks, taking the arm off. Bits of energon trickle out of it, as he scowls down at Benjer, then reverses the arm. In that same tone he adds, "You won't do anything, ever again." then drives the arm up into the chest of the Junkion leader. >> AU-Megatron strikes AU-Benjer with Crush. << :GAME: Dreadwind PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of High difficulty. Elita One passively sits there as Benjer gets brutally assaulted by Megatron, her one optic flickers on for a moment, then flickers back off. Dreadwind stares at the Energon Generator and its security device for what feels like an hour amidst the chaos of battle, also known as Zach Snyder Standard Time, but is really only a couple of seconds. "Well, then..." He limps over to the generator and places a boot against the restraining system, bracing his free hand against his back. He glances over his shoulder at Tracker and Tomorrow, "You... may want to step back. This thing will more than likely explode and take me with it." Keeping his shield up for good measure, he leans in and kicks the claw-shaped device free of the generator. The energon generator immediately starts to shift and fold, the array starts to turn to its side, as it moves a hand reaches up and out from the base, towards one of the Junkions. >> Imager strikes Junkion Reavers with Slam. << The generator keeps folding until Imager stands up, murder in her eyes, as she crushes part of one of the raiders with her bare hands. Following Dreadwind's shrewd caution, Tomorrow does indeed stay back as Imager just straight up murders a Junk. Tracker growls at Dreadwind but he doesn't ove from Tomorrow's side. Benjer urks as his gun arm is completely torn off of him at the shoulder, and then stabbed into his chest like a jagged spear - a wound that would have outright killed any lesser Transformer. Benjer, however, is not so easily killed. From young Autobot test pilot Beneficence, through his wandering years as Benin-Jeri, and now to his role as Benjer, Junkion leader on Cybertron, Benjer has never allowed adversity to keep him down. Even being literally disarmed doesn’t stop him. If his last act is to keep Megatron busy so that others survive, so be it. "You make think me down for the count, but if you’d taken account of all I’ve surmount, you’d not discount what is paramount: you’ll never circumscribe the future of my tribe." Twisting on the ground, Benjer swings his remaining arm to whip his spiked shield at Megatron’s face. Dust blurs and whips around, obscuring a lot of the Tank Drones and the Junkion Raiders from the fight, the wind blows a sheet of dust between Benjer and Megatron, as their forces fight in the background Benjer's troops fall back as Kaleidoscope is killed before them. Mismatched optics widen as Dreadwind frees the Source... and all hell starts to break loose. Sater-Kyl orders the other Junkions to fall back, even in their moment of triumph. Some stay to fight the Decepticon drones in the dust, but others begin to fade away, leaving their leader to his fate. If the Source is free, then her fury is not to be contained. Sater-Kyl may be heard to announce, "This just in: Time to run or die!" AU-Stormfront transforms now that he's got the majority of the sand in the air. Now he can do a bit of finess with his attacks. He focuses the winds to give those retreating a chance to escape. Some of the blasts of sand and wind come with a powerful smack of a forcefield that knocks at least one tank upside down in the sand. He glances back to see...oh no. "Benin what did you do..." The fighting is of course now on two fronts. He does his best to maintain the thick sandstorm in the air. Blast Off pages: either is fine, not sure Boff is eager to fight anyway, unless he's ordered to (but he's injured and unable to fly so probably on the cautious side) Imager says "YOU MONSTERS!" She just puts her boot into one, and breaks the Junk's back as they start to run from her. "TWO. EONS!" She yells, as a Junk charges her with an axe. She raises an arm, letting the axe sink into it, then pretty much punches through the Junk. "TWO! EONS!" She lets out a scream as she just starts to enact bloody revenge on the raiders that held her captive for so long, using her for her generation abilities." AU-Megatron says, "Insects......You're all fodder." Megatron hefts up Benjer, energon trailing down the wounded mech, as Stormfront watches....and then Megatron turns his head to Stormfront. He is given pause for a moment, then that frown returns, "You....offend me." He raises his free arm, the cannon raises up towards Stormfront. "MEGATRON!" The voice cuts through the sand, the dust, and the fighting. He turns slowly towards the voice. "Face a worthy enemy...you bloated shell of a warrior." Megatron speaks in a whisper, "Who...Who is there?" And amid the dust and sand, a figure strides forth. Elita One. And she is in perfect condition, her pathblaster in hand, a determined look on her face. "The end comes" She raises her weapon. Megatron howls, "All forces! Fire! Kill her! Reduce her to ashes! Now!)]" and the combined fire of every drone, as well as the Warlord descends upon her." >> AU-Megatron strikes Elita One with Hip-Cannon . << >> AU-Megatron strikes Elita One with Hip-Cannon . << >> AU-Megatron strikes Elita One with Hip-Cannon . << >> AU-Megatron misses Elita One with Hip-Cannon . << >> AU-Megatron strikes Elita One with Hip-Cannon . << >> AU-Megatron strikes Elita One with Hip-Cannon . << Elita One is overcome by injuries, losing consciousness. Smoke, and dust, and weapons fire goes off for a full minute. When the smoke clears, she is still standing, unfazed, despite having been struck several times moments earlier. TIME PAUSES FOR STORMFRONT Stormfront whirrs there in hovercycle mode when time just seems to nearly stop. Motes of dust still move, his blades still whir, slowly, and as if distant, next to him is Elita One. She's fully functional right now. She looks over to you, "You disapprove of my actions?"' Stormfront transforms and flicks a small rock out of the air and turns to look at Elita. "Show off..." He sighs as he looks back at the battle scene. "You could have asked me for help. Ordered me to help. I have always been willing to play my part...even when I don't like it." He rubs his face staring at the sand coating his hand afterward. "I hate all this...all that has happened and still..." She nods, "I do too. Every last bit of it." She sounds weary, "I hate the war, and all the lives it has taken. I hate every single damnable sacrifice that we've ever had to lay down...and for all of it, we gain nothing." She pauses, "It is not up to me any longer to decide who lives, and who dies. I'm tired of it....." She gestures forward, "I keep looking into the future, and this is the scene I see at the end, Stormfront. Never can I see beyond this." AU-Stormfront frowns as he looks at Elita, staring at her for a few 'seconds' before nodding and grabbing her hand. Optics sad. "We never could see things optic to optic. I will do what you ask...my way of course. But it will be done or tasked to another if I can't complete the journey. But....I'll do my best to see what more chaos I can wreak. You were always the strongest of us and you will never be forgotten. She manages a weak smile, "I'm sorry I couldn't have been more to you. I just..." And then your hand goes through hers, and she is no longer there.' TIME RESUMES FOR STORMFRONT Blast Off is here, really! He's just... taking awhile. The Combaticon shuttle was injured, grounded by Megatron himself. Barely making it out of that encounter alive, he was saved by the fact that he still wore his Decepticon badge. Now following Megatron, the shuttleformer is struggling to keep up, now that he can't fly. BUT... now, finally, he manages to catch up onto the scene. And what a scene! The last Combaticon makes his way, with some difficulty, to a spot he can see what's going on. What- IS going on, anyway? He watches as Elita challenges Megatron- and loses. Then... wait, no? He carries a weapon, raising it uncertainly at Elita still standing there??!!... then lowers it. No, he's going to wait, see what's actually going on here first. AU-Stormfront dark optics see the carnage. His attempts to take out the tanks not enough. He screams his anger and frustration at it all. His dust devils take on tornado force as he intensifies his attack. Something has happened. He stands tall, optics blazing as he finally turns and glares directly at Megatron. He then turns toward Imager and the rest. He touches his head for a second. "Fetch." Starting a run tries to place himself in front of IMager. "STOP!" Forcefield raise and he tries to 'contain' Imager's fury. "Unless you wish to spend the REST of your existance working for Megatron or as scrap, stave off your anger and move. We must get from here NOW." Tracker breaks off from Tomorrow and rushes toward Megatron's forces looking for two things. One of which he grabs as he passes what is left of Elita One and quickly subspaced. The second is when he grabs a hold of Benin and begins to drag his carcass to the closest junkions. Dreadwind simply stands and watches as Imager goes completely sick-house on her former captors. He carefully steps between her and Tomorrow as she rampages, not wanting to interupt. However, as the bombardment against Elita One comes to a close, he makes a coughing noise to get Imager's attention, "This seems to have been a long time coming, and the last thing I want to do is interupt. However, you seee, the thing is we're... well, doomed. And-..." Stormfront comes charging in, and Dreadwind's optics flicker, shoulders sagging as he glances over his shoulder at Tomorrow. Finally he looks back at Imager, gesturing toward Stormfront with his shield, "What he said." The superhuman figure of Elita One flickers once as the mad tyrant stares her down, and then disappears... Ashtray, Rubbish, Wasteoid Gamma - one by one the Junkions fell before Imager's fury. As the tank cons were largely flummoxed by Stormfront's sandstorm, those remaining focused their attack on stopping - and ideally, re-containing - the Source. Junkyard moved in, hacking at Imager's elbows, trying to cripple her without damaging her ability to produce energon. Greasestain did the same, approaching from the other side and slashing at her knee. She would be stopped and reabsorbed into the machine. Then... Megatron lifts their leader, pauses, and tosses him aside to attempt to destroy - is that Elita One? Th' hell? The Junkions abandon their attack on Imager and back away fearfully, confused at what's going on. It's been a strange day, and they haven't lasted this long by being inquisitive. When Stormfront attempts to contain Imager, that's all the opening they need. The remaining Junkions throw down their weapons, transform into their altmodes, and RUN. Benjer himself is tossed aside like trash. He lands hard, bounces, and comes to rest half-buried in sand. He, too, has no idea what's going on, but the fight has been beaten out of him. He painfully pulls himself into a sitting position, pulls his own arm out of his chest, and does what he can to reattach it. When Tracker shows up to help him, Benjer gives him a thankful grin, and with his help, makes his way back towards Stormfront. >> Junkion Reavers retreats from the area, leaving itself open to AU-Megatron, and AU-Incognito. << >> AU-Benjer takes a step back and starts to put his pieces back together. << >> AU-Benjer quickly patches himself back up. << Blast Off blinks, still mostly just taking this all in. His gun remains in his hand, hanging at his side. He's still not really sure what's going on, only having arrived planetside recently. Imager does what she can to both rage and fend off the Junks about her, just wordlessly screaming in frustration and hatred. Stormfront's forcefield stops an errant swing of hers, just enough to give her pause. She turns to Dreadwind and Stormfront, anguish on her face. She takes several deep intakes, part of her struggling with the fury, Dreadwind's prophesy of doom doesn't really mean much to her, but the threat implied by Stormfront, that she'd be enslaved again is enough. "...I can't move in altmode...I'll.." She starts to back away from the scene. "Yeah..." >> Imager retreats from the area, leaving herself open to Elita One, Blast Off, AU-Stormfront, AU-Megatron, Dreadwind, and AU-Incognito. << AU-Megatron approaches Elita One's position, his optics scanning the area. The smoke and sand still obscure so much of the landscape. "W..Where is she? Where is her body? Huffer!" He looks around some more, more frantically, "Huffer!" He actually kneels down, and lets the rust drift through his fingers, "A....hologram?" He questions finally. Huffer simply watches from a distance, reluctant to either clarify, or point out how the Junks are retreating...or fixing themselves. AU-Stormfront turns to keep the sandstorm up. It doesn't need much help as Cybertron's own fickle nature begins to lend itself to perpetuating the storm. HE then turns to the others, moving with them. "We need to find a safe place to heal and hide. Time was bought but still limited. Dreadwind starts moving out with the rest of the growing clan, making sure to keep Tomorrow safely near him. "This is what life used to be like. Death and dismemberment at every turn, never knowing whose plasma bolt had your name on it... It was awful, every moment of it." He glances over his shoulder, "Not a whole lot has changed, really. It's still awful." What a lesson for the new protoform to learn. Tomorrow toddles along with Dreadwind as he begins his lecture, she attentively follows, and gets a very...skewed version of events. She's going to grow up /just fine/ guys. Benjer catches up with the rest of the new team, giving Imager a wary glance. "I know someplace nearby," he says, "And I promise no lie. I will keep us all safe, including your friends and waif." He indicates Tomorrow with a waggle of his dented head. "We should go soon, however, before we lose the chance forever." He lifts up his ax and points down away from the Junk caravan, apparently, for now, leaving his people behind. Blast Off squints- wait a minute, he recognizes Imager. She vacates the area, though, and he has no interest in taking potshots at retreating people. Hmm. In fact, a lot of people seem to be retreating. He glances towards Megatron over there, mostly just glad the apparently unstable Decepticon leader isn't paying attention to HIm at least, then looks around again- and spots.... what is that? or... who? He tilts his head, studying Tomorrow. Is she what he's been looking for? That protoform? He begins to try to get closer to investigate, though they seem to be leaving. AU-Stormfront tries to herd the stragglers along. He'll see about dealing with Bring your kid to battle day later. He isn't the most optimal choice to take charge for the moment, but something needs to be done. At least he's just enough crazy glue to try and stuck these pieces together. "Dreadwind, please keep her safe....if nothing else...Imager please..we need your help if would come with us. Cybertron has given us new life, hut we have no resources for her. She's an innocent and in need of protection and care. I know things were not well for you. And I am sorry. But I hope you will come with us at least until we figure a better plan." Benjer is given a bit of a look and then he nods. As the group starts to leave, the initial movement is back the way they came, and a glint of metal shines in the distance... Elita One, having fully turned grey, sits as she did before, cross legged, her chin just slightly tilted up as if looking upward, and with a hint of a smirk on her face. Dreadwind's mangled face (made all the more gruesome by the missing faceplate, leaving nothing but exposed wires and a vocalizer) doesn't offer much in the way of expression. However, he forgoes a whithering 'that's what I've been trying to do' stare. Insteading, he hefts his wing-shield a bit higher, "As long as can be expected with the looming shadow of doom over us." Imager trudges along silently. She'd refuse to admit it, but it was true. Megatron scared her more than anything else. As she approaches the remains, she slows. "Oh....oh no." Imager stops in her tracks after a few steps, and just stares. Benjer raises his ax. He's all for recycling Elita One's parts as well, although his initial inkling isn't to be as subtle about it as Stormfront. However, seeing Imager's reaction, he lowers his blade. He's done a lot to Imager, admittedly, although it was for the good of his people. For now, Benjer can give her a moment, before hurrying them along. Megatron is still out there. Blast Off struggles to catch up as the others seem to be heading away. he's not sure how things work here... but is that guy over there, walking next to the.... protoform? Is he a Decepticon? But Imager is with them... but but.... He frowns. Yep, he probably better just get used to being confused. But nobody is shooting at him yet, so he keeps following the group. Seems healthier than sticking with Megatron. AU-Stormfront moves forward and frowns, kneeling down to touch Elita's face. "And of course the moment I had to tell you what you truly meant to me and Cybertron passed like dust on the wind. I'm sorry dearest sister that I had to be the thorn in your side at times. Thank you for what guiding light you shown apon me and know that I will try and pass that light onto tomorrow so that she can become a leader like yourself." He then stands and moves to Benin, whispering softly. Elsewhere... Despite part of himself wanting to go out there, he knew the time wasn't right. Not yet. And yet... that was a remarkable display all the same. It reminded Incognito of an old, old Terran movie. In spite of himself, for the first time in eons, Incognito did something that he'd had no reason to do before now. He smiled. Faintly, but he smiled nonetheless. For several moments, he watches as the party, now with the addition of a heavily-wounded Benjer, an angry Imager... and a trailing-behind... Blast Off? "Well, looks like I missed one of the Combaticons to mode-lock into Terran kitchen appliances after all," he muses to himself. An old, old joke... long since forgotten except by him, it seems. What actually happened to the Combaticons, he doesn't rightly know. He pans back towards the rock where Elita-One had sat down... and where her body remained in repose. That elicited a slight frown -- he may not have all that much faith in his fellow Cybertronians right now, but there's such a thing as dignity. That decided, he moves towards the chamber doors, opening them for the first time in at least two or three eons, and transforms, heading out towards the New Rust Desert to properly retrieve Elita's form. Category:The End of the War Category:logs Category:Apocalypse World TP